


death to dolores

by Valpoet



Series: Survival of Mitzi [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valpoet/pseuds/Valpoet
Summary: Killing Dolores meant Mitzi's survival. It was necessity. Nothing more.





	death to dolores

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was very hard. It's an old piece and the warning are mostly for people who would be triggered by this kind of thing, despite it not being very graphic in terms of detail. Still, trigger warnings just in case.

Shattered bottles and strangled screams. Calloused hands and whiskey breath.

  
Gun shots. The sound of iron hitting stone.

  
The smell of fresh dirt. The sight of death.

  
These were familiar things. Things that haunted most; traumatized others to the point of barely being able to exist.  
Memories so clear, it only took a bare lapse of concentration to fall back into old patterns for so many.

  
Mitzi was always determined to be stronger than that. 

  
The lies came easy. They always had.

  
Her dark skin hid her bruises better than her white peers. Even if some days, he was rougher, that was fine. She just said she liked it rough.  
If she liked it, no one could hurt her. If the pain was a reward, there was no punishment. She couldn’t lose.

  
Dolores though…Dolores was weak. Scared. Dolores was everything Mitzi despised.

  
Frail and meek and trembling beneath Father. Crying, sobbing, please no more. Slapped, but still whimpering as he had his way with her.

  
Dolores was the victim Mitzi hated to be.

  
Mitzi was the strength. The resentment. The one who embraced it all. 

  
Free from Father’s house, she laughed and kissed and scratched and fucked and had her own way. Men were wrapped around HER finger. Not the other way around. She sobbed and begged for no one.  
In Father’s walls, she was Dolores. 

  
But Mitzi was determined. Mitzi was the part of Dolores that was a secret. A deep dark secret that Father didn’t know about. He would never know about.  
It was a ruse. She was not broken, nor would she ever be.

  
Honing skills in secret, planning inevitable escape and revenge. For herself, and a long dead angel under floorboards. A three year old girl had seen more and remembered it all; Father didn’t know.  
And years later, on his deathbed, with a needle in his arm and glass between them, he’d only know because he’d see her eyes.

  
And a grin.

  
Because Dolores died and Mitzi lived.


End file.
